Date: 21st - 27th August.
Rating: G. Or do they have D.O for detail overload? XD
Summary: Joker goes working on Hana-sama's orders. Hmm. Many left dead.
Note: (ooc) I'm really sorry if this is cinematic. Like I go describing things that can well be taken for granted and such. But just forgive the novelist yah? ._. よろしくおねがいしあす!~

He plugged the little ticket through the slot and the barrier opened
up. Walking past the gates, he silently enjoyed the idea of a holiday.
And he was really eager too. Maybe a little too eager, but that little
feeling always made things get a little... smoother.

Brisk footsteps brought him to the platform, where he found himself
standing next to the glassy advertisement panelling. The reflection
staring back at him was a man in his late thirties. He had a neatly
pressed blue suit and tie, matt-black leather shoes and a smart Pierre
Cardin briefcase. The lights reflected off a slightly receding
hairline, but the rest of his short blackish-grey hair was combed
neatly in place. On his face, he sports thick gold-rimmed spectacles,
which gave him an intellectual look. And his wrinkles and bulgy tummy
could have seen better days.

One brief glance around the busy platform showed about 30 other similar
men. All rushing back to their families on a Friday night, leaving busy
Tokyo for the weekend. Leaving all the bloody work behind. Well, maybe
not all. One of these men didn’t have a family to go home to. One of
these men didn’t join the mass exodus every Friday night. One of these
men was involved in work that might just turn bloody. And one of these
men was a fake. And for that man, his work was just beginning.

Mindfully, he backed away from the edge of the platform, for fear that
his wig might get blown off. And then the whole world would see him in
his big, bad, unwaxed, wig-flattened hair. He’d look worse than a
squashed persimmon. The ultimate disgrace. Oh, and his cover could get
blown. Literally blown.

Mingling with the crowd, he got into a carriage. Then, like all working
men do when on a long train ride, he helped himself to a copy of the
daily Shimbun and hid himself behind the dusty papers. Letting his eyes
wander to a random paragraph, he started to replay the instructions in
his head.

Sapporo
Corn on the cob stall
Buy corn (lunch)
Consume it (ravenously – NOT!)
Do what I do best (With a straight face. To add more oomph.)

Then, he paused a while to savour his private joke. And also to decide
which one he should use on his poor, defenceless (corn?) accomplice. 5
minutes had passed, the average time it takes for a normal person to
finish reading an article. He promptly turned the page to avoid
suspicion.

Flips. Now he had all the time in the world - well, actually until
Sapporo, - to decide and plan out on the second part of his mission:
The Delivery.
The train rumbled on. Joker put his paper down and looked out of the
window, onto a vast blanket of darkness. The skyline drew his attention
with its beautiful architecture and the city lights in the distance
stood out like numerous trinkets on a Christmas tree. And the real
stars hung on the velvet of the navy-maroon night, twinkling more
beautifully than ever. It would have been quite something to camp and
sleep out under those stars. And since it was summer, he wouldn’t risk
getting frozen and landing in hospital for hypothermia.

‘Come on, work first.’ He mentally chided himself. But that didn’t stop
him from looking out the window. Peering out more closely, he found
stars on the ground too. But it was only the reflection on the water.
Then a thought struck him. Water.

Hmm, woe to them who didn’t think of it earlier. Smiling an insider’s
smile, he surfaced a plan of the headquarters in his head. Duh.
The main frame of Plan B was settled for the moment. Joker stared out
into the open for the rest of the journey. It would be a while more,
just a little while more.

-

“Sapporo station. Sapporo station. Thank you for travelling with us. Have a safe trip.”

Cue to get off and check into the busiest inn there. As he made for the
exit, another ‘businessman’ stereotype bumped into him. He apologised
frantically, looking as if in a hurry to catch up with the rest of his
colleagues.

“Gomenasai. I’m in a hurry.” It didn’t take long for Joker to wonder if all
working men looked the same. This man standing in front of him had the
exact outfit and accessories on, just that his were 2 shades of blue
lighter.

“This is my name card, yoroshiku onegaishimasu. Do contact me if
there’re any damages. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience caused.” With
that, he hurried away.
Joker walked on, stealing glances at the name card. Yamada Kentarou,
Deputy supervisor of a small company. Just his luck. Could he have met
anyone else with a more common name than that? “Arigatou, Kami-sama.”
He muttered under his breath.

-

“Good evening, Sir. May I help you?” The cheery girl at the counter chirped.
“Yes, I’d like a single room for one night, please.” He strained his voice to alter it.
“May I have your name and contact number, please?”
“Yamada. Yamada Kentarou. This is my name card.” He paused slightly and
presented the card over the counter. “But no visitors, please. I need
some time to myself before going home to 3 noisy kids...”
The receptionist looked at him quizzically, and he slowly continued in
hushed tones.
“The mother-in-law is visiting. If you get what I mean.” He gave a
little shrug and a sigh, smiling sheepishly as the receptionist let out
a little chuckle and nodded.
“Here is your access card to room 17, it is just around the corner, on the second floor. Good night and enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you.”

Picking up the electronic card, Joker dropped it into his coat pocket
as he left for his room. Given his profession, he didn’t really need
the card, but for appearance sakes, it was safer to use it.

Inside the room, Joker kicked off his shoes and slumped onto the easy
chair. His eyes caught the small bauble of a security camera in a
corner, directly above the television set. And thank goodness it was
the only one there. An old model like that would be useless in the
dark. All he needed to do was to switch off the lights and voila!~ as
good as no surveillance. Then, remembering something, he dialled the
counter.

“This is room service, how may I help you, Yamada-san?”
“I’d like to make an exception regarding the ‘no-visitors’ thing
I mentioned earlier. My nephew plans drop by sometime in the afternoon,
but I may not be in, so please direct him here. Goes by the name of
Joel David Kerner. And he’s just been back from the states, so he’s the
foreign looking guy, early twenties. Right, that will be all.”
“Yes, sir. We shall convey your wishes to the counter to avoid any complications tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”

Alibi settled. He switched off the room lights. Now was the time for
metamorphosis. He retreated to the bathroom, where it was safe. Then
off came the whole suit, tie and glasses. Fake belly pouch was
unstrapped and dropped in the briefcase. The grease-laden wig was next,
together with the clammy, wrinkley, double-chinned rubber mask. Joker
felt nothing less than major relief. The summer temperatures could hit
as high as 30.6 ºC. Stepping into the shower, he allowed himself a nice
cool shower, while keeping an eye on his PDA, which doubled as a
roaming and tracking device. His corridor was silent for the night, and
so he lingered on a little longer in the bath.

Putting on his usual attire of berms and a sleeveless top, he went back
into his room totally refreshed.
He picked up his coat and flipped it inside out. Pulling what looked
like a stray piece of thread immediately inflated the coat. Convertible
life vest and coat. Very useful. He chucked it under the covers to make
it look like a sleeping form and turned up the air-conditioning. Then,
sliding the door of the cupboard open, Joker crept in and made himself
comfortable amongst the rolls of extra blankets and futon. Before long,
he was dreaming of fluffy popcorn sheep grazing in a field of stalks of
golden corn.

-

The next day, near noon, he left room number 17 by the balcony. He
spent the entire morning spraying his hair a dull, sun-bleached brown,
being careful not to let the bright red show through. A mole was also
added, a la Atobe-sama style. Then, lowering himself off the balcony by
means of a thin retractable steel rope, he surveyed the area. It was
beginning to get too warm to be outdoors. The back alley where he
landed was clean and deserted. Checking his PDA once again, Joker
planned his route.

It didn’t take Joker very long to reach his target destination. It was
shop-house styled, and sold all sorts of corn, dealt with in different
ways. Sautéed, glazed, stir-fried, iced desserts, salads, etc.
Everything but on the cob, roasted.

“Sumimasen, but isn’t there any roasted corn on the cob?”
“Ah, usually yes, but not during summer. It’s too hot to be roasting
them in the shop, so we’ve shifted it to a pushcart stand. It goes
around the district. Should be along the main roads, you could take a
chance and see if you can catch it.”

Joker bowed politely and stood at the steps of the door. No wonder
there wasn’t any address in Hama-sama’s instructions. Hmm. It would
take too much time for him to run from street to street, so he decided
that he should track him instead.

“Sorry for interrupting again, but actually I’m in a hurry, my train
leaves soon, but I’d really love to pack your corn on the way back. Is
Takeshi-san still the one roasting the corn?”
“Oh, so you know our Takeshi...hahaha...you should have said so
earlier. And leaving so soon? You just wait and we’ll give him a call
on his mobile and get him back in a jiffy.”
“That wouldn’t be nice, I’ll be imposing on you. Still have a business
to run, you know. Why don’t you give me his number and I’ll call him
instead?”
“Why, sure. Use the shop’s phone. We have speed dialling.”

Bingo. Just ring his mobile, and the PDA would pick up the transmission.
He dialled the number, but quickly terminated the call without them
noticing. Then making sure his actions didn’t raise any suspicion, he
sneaked out of the shop unnoticed, blending in with the growing crowd
that filed in for lunch. Checking his PDA again, the little blue spot
gave away the stand’s location. Joker wasted no time and briskly headed
for it.

-

The smell of the roasted corn reached him before he actually saw
it. He let himself walk along the street as naturally as he could,
being careful not to let his excitement get the better of him. Turning
the corner, he found himself in a lonely little corner. There, roasting
the corn while wiping beads of perspiration off his forehead stood
Uchida Takeshi.

“I’d like one please.” Joker placed his order and watched as the man
picked a juicy, buttery cob off the grill and placed it in a small
brown paper bag with extra paper napkins to handle the hot corn. He
didn’t even take a second look at Joker when he accepted his payment,
but went on give his corn more dashes of butter and a few twists to
roast it evenly. Joker left the stall, and munched along. A drop of
scalding butter seeped through the package and burnt his fingers,
causing him to almost drop it. Then, another of his crazy brainwaves
struck him, and he did a little ‘too-hot-to-catch’ juggling act before
dropping it onto the ground deliberately. It hit the floor with a
little thud, and rolled back in the direction of the pushcart.

For a while, Joker stood staring at the cob, waiting for something to
happen. Then, Uchida Takeshi spoke. He was fuming slightly, and a
little irritated.

“You...why did you think I gave you so many paper napkins for? Haven’t you got any sense to use them?”
“Nope, I’ve got some cents,
but I thought I’d use up my notes first. Then I’ll use my credit card,
before I use my cents. They’re a trifle heavy to carry around too much,
and they jingle. Bells. Jingle Bells, jingle all the way.”

There was a long period of silence and the next thing Joker saw was a
sweaty bundle of a towel flying past his head. He ducked this easily,
and grinned, pushing a lock of his fringe out of the way. It was
sometime before the accomplice relaxed enough to continue with
business.

“Here. I’ll give you another one. Eat it after you get back.” A similar
brown paper bag was produced, but this time, he dropped the corn in and
folded the top of the bag before handing it over. “And this time, don’t
drop it. I couldn’t believe Hama-sama when she told me about you. Who
would have thought lamers like you even existed?”

“Don’t worry. You’re pretty corny yourself. Corn-y,
yes.” Joker blurted out and ducked as he grabbed the paper bag. This
time, it was an empty butter bowl. Straightening up and dusting himself
off, he stood up to face a growing smile.

“Good Luck. Don’t screw it, or you’ll have something to screw about when you get back.”
“Yeah. It’ll be back to unscrewing wine bottles at that restaurant again.”

With that, they parted their ways. Mission part A, completed.

-

Joker headed for a public restroom. From his pockets, he fished a small
can of his beloved hair wax and went on to style his hair. Off came the
mole, and on went a cap, a wristband and a pair of shades. The next
stop was back to the hotel. It was time for the good nephew to pay his
uncle ‘Yamada’ a visit.

The same cheery girl was back in for the late afternoon shift. Joker
took an extra effort to look around, seemingly lost before he
approached the counter. He was greeted in the same way as last night.
“The name’s Kerner. I’m here to visit Mr Yamada Kentarou.”
“Good evening, sir. Yamada-san has made arrangements for you to see him directly.”
She went on to repeat the same words Joker heard yesterday. Then he took the card, again redundant, and went back to his room.

-

The first thing he made to do was to bring the brown bag into the
bathroom. He plonked himself on the toilet seat cover and stared at the
paper bag for a while. Upon opening it, the fresh aroma of the corn
wafted out. It was only warm to the touch now, and Joker proceeded to
examine the contents of the bag while munching on the complimentary
corn.

Right at the base of the packet, sealed in a zip lock casing, was a
small stack of documents and a little white, flat box the size of a
palm. The documents included a new alias of Kobayashi Akira, recently
deceased and still unreported, the unclaimed cadaver lying in an
unmarked body bag. His occupation was a deliveryman for a warehouse
specialising in the mass distribution of iced confectionery. There was
a receipt for picking up a set of uniform from the cleaners and a
timetable of the recess periods and patrol duties of the staff of
Hokkaido’s HQ. And a list of available company trucks and the delivery
routes they frequent.

And the box was the main thing. Joker opened it gingerly and found a
splendid masterpiece of a bomb, courtesy of the Mafia. Signed, sealed
and delivered by Blue...or the Weapons department, in this case. A
maximum prestart time of 5 hours upon activation, but he was sure he’d
never need that much time. Or maybe it’ll come in handy. It had the
ability to blow up the entire HQ. The surrounding areas were sparsely
populated. 57.4% of Sapporo was forest, and so no further damage would
be done.

He sat on the toilet seat cover for a long time and dangled his feet,
wiggling his toes while the shower ran. It was a simple enough job. But
then, according to Sod and Murphy, anything that can go wrong will go
wrong. He wasn’t going to fail this and die now. He still had a lot
more to learn. Joker was his name, but definitely not his real one.
He’d bet every single hair on his head that there’s something else to
it. Maybe Hana-sama could give him a clue to it. Success was his only
option. Tomorrow, he’d collect and prepare all his necessary equipment.
And he’ll strike the day after.

-

Joker stayed hidden in the bath until it was after dark (to foil
the camera), taking his own sweet time to wash the dye from his hair.
Red was still his best color. He then reinstated the bed to its initial
neatness and deflated the coat, hanging it back in the cupboard. Then,
he opened the door and closed it again. This would register as someone
either entering or leaving the apartment. ‘Yamada-san’ wouldn’t be back
till tomorrow morning. Tying up his hair in a bandanna, he left the
room a good twenty minutes later with the documents safe in his pocket.

The doorman greeted him at the entrance, and Joker decided to use him a
bit. “Did my uncle go drinking without me again? You know, the plump,
slightly balding man (referring to two thirds of the entire
population).”
At this, the doorman smiled politely and nodded, indicating that he
noticed a man fitting that description leaving approximately half an
hour ago. “He must have left while I was bathing... See you.” He ended
the small talk abruptly and left the hotel, feigning an annoyed look.

-

Walking along, Joker thought that he should do some land survey before
launching into delivery proper. The cooler night would make a more
comfortable cover. First he headed for the warehouse, where the wares were housed.
He took liberties to wander around and familiarise himself with the
placing of the goods. According to the timetable, the Keisatsu HQ has
an in-house canteen, and the stall owners restock food supplies
everyday. The ice cream stall and drink stalls get their stocks at the
same time -- 1100 sharp. One of the items delivered was just as he
wanted it. Large rectangular blocks of ice to the ice cream stall, for
the desserts.

The idea of transporting it in a block of ice came to him on the train
ride. But that was when he thought that they might use a thermal
activated bomb. Given the hot summer season, a bomb in a frozen block
of ice could buy him many hours while he made his escape, before it
blew. Nonetheless, this custom set bomb gave him a lot more freedom to
experiment. He could take the trouble to encase it in a block and time
it in utmost precision to the melting ice. This could confuse the
police into investigating on similar cases of thermally activated
bombs.

Next stop brought him to the carpark, and there he found the trucks
parked in their allocated spots. The one he was assigned to was right
in the back, nearest the exit. There should be no problem. Avoiding the
main security at the gate, Joker chose to scale the far end of the
wall. With his handy dandy yo-yo, he released the steel string onto the
large tree outside the wall and propelled himself out in two steps.
Destination next:

Even by night, the place was guarded. Two in the guardhouse in front, where they housed guards.
In neat print, the timetable revealed five more on rounds and three
manning the phone lines until morning. Searchlights flitted around and
threatened to expose him, but Joker was on alert. Sitting as still as
he could, he observed the frequency of the beams and the routine of the
patrols. It was now 0200 the next day, Sunday. Still counting silently
in the corner, he braced himself for the dash into the building. He
took a deep breath.

On three...
Two...
One.

And he lodged his foot into an old jointing in the wall and hoist
himself over. Landing on the soft soles of his shoes, he counted two
before sprinting towards a stairway. The spotlight barely missed him.
Wasting no time, he stuck close to the walls to avoid the cameras and
continued his way down to the canteen. Had to reach the basement in
four seconds. There was the door leading to the control room where the
shared freezer was. Wristband converts into glove, PDA glow would
suffice as a light source. Protection was weak here. The canteen was
obviously of little value. Slide-card accessed system. Joker’s fingers
got to work. The slide could be offset by temporarily resetting it with
a general password. Eight seconds allowed.

Click. The door opened. Break in successful, total of sixteen seconds
taken. The patrol wouldn’t be down in another 5 minutes. One could call
it more of a storeroom than a control room. The place was worn and old,
extremely easy to sabotage. He checked the running temperature of the
freezer compartment. –5.7 ºC. Manipulating the temperature regulator to
increase by 1.5 ºC every 3 hours. The temperature reflected remains
unchanged. Activating the lag-timer to start thaw at 0200, Monday. By
1400 on Monday afternoon, the ice would have started to melt. By 1500
that same day, there wouldn’t be anymore headquarters. Hurrying, he
rattled the rusty, half-loosened screws on the radiator pipes until
they came off, punctured. It’ll probably increase temperatures, but not
noticeably different. They’ll probably attribute the increasing
temperatures to these broken pipes.
Taking care that nothing else was disturbed, Joker left the room and
closed the door behind him.

The lock re-auto activated and since it was reset, it wouldn’t register
the disruption on the system. One minute and sixteen seconds had
elapsed since his break in. The next patrol would come down by these
same stairs, so he would have to leave fast. Taking five steps at a
time, he arrived back at the ground level in four seconds flat and
waited for the search beams to pass. As soon as it did, Joker half
sprinted and launched his steel-string contraption over the wall,
scaling along the surface of the bricks as the string retracted.
Without stopping, he disappeared into the fringes of shrubs, away from
the empty streets. Land survey, or rather sabotaging, completed. He
decided against returning to the hotel and raising suspicion. Instead,
he made straight for the mortuary.

-

The dead had to be officially certified by a medical
professional. But since work wouldn’t resume until Monday, Joker was
sure what he was looking for would still be there, untouched at the
mortuary. Unzipping a few bags, he finally found the body of the real
Kobayashi Akira. Grabbing a spare body bag, he placed himself beside
the deceased and settled in for the night.

“Oyasumi, Akira-kun.”

-

The little beeps from his mobile woke Joker up. It was already 0448,
Sunday morning. It was time to start preparations. He sat up and waved
the body bag around to cool it off before replacing it, making a mental
checklist.

Then off he went, back to the hotel before it got too bright. It took
him some time before he arrived at the back alley. Again, his weapon
made good use of itself and he was back in room 17 by the balcony.
Packing what he needed in fifteen minutes, he crept back out the same
way. ‘Joker, the makeup artist’ sounded just as good as ‘Joker, the
assassin’. Back to the mortuary.

-

“Good Morning...” The young man grunted as he half-hauled and
half-dragged a fat, middle-aged man through the doors of the hotel.
They both reeked of alcohol. “Would you help me open my room door, he’s
drunk.” Joker wheezed a little from the weight of his ‘uncle’ and
handed the access card to a bellboy. The bellboy immediately obliged,
and soon, Joker was left alone in the room with ‘Yamada’. Or rather,
his proxy. Or rather, Kobayashi Akira. This was by far the most
exciting way he’d ever transported a corpse. In broad daylight, into
the busiest hotel in the district, under everybody’s noses. The freshly
dead man was still cold from the mortuary. It would take one more day
before he started decomposing. But the stench of the alcohol should
overpower that. Besides, this body was going down with the building.
Quite a spectacular crematory ritual, so to speak.

He tucked the body in bed and went into the bathroom again. It was fast
becoming his second home. Flipping through his documents, he took a few
minutes to read up on Kobayashi’s background. Had no living relations,
single, and owned an apartment two blocks away from the warehouse. His
work attitude was serious, but he was a loner through and through. Then
disposing his body would be a small problem. But transporting the body
out to the warehouse would need more work. Joker racked his brains. He
couldn’t do anything at the moment. Locking the bathroom door behind
him, he went back to the main room and slept on the spare futon. The
plan would have to wait. Sometimes, we just had to slow down to speed
up.

-

Joker was up and about by noon. He had room service send him the
laundry and the uniform came together with the rest of his clothing.
They were all neatly packed, and only a receipt was needed to retrieve
the clothing. So nobody would know who wore the clothing, who needed
the clothing or even what the clothing were. Safe. And besides, he got
a good examination of the deliverymen’s attire. They wore a smart grey
jacket and dark blue pants. A cap and large trolley completed the look.
Half an hour later, another deliveryman carted a load of dirty laundry
out to the Laundromat just a block away. He carted it into one of the
numerous back alleys. Anyone looking would have thought him heading for
the back entrance of the Laundromat. But because no one was looking, no
one saw him push it further two blocks away, into the storage shed of
the ice confectionery warehouse.

“Phew.” Joker smiled and immediately went for the packaging
boxes. Assembling three large boxes, he stacked them one atop the
other. Then, hollowing out the bases of the top two, he was left with a
long, rectangular ‘coffin’. “In you go, Akira-kun, Good night, sleep
tight, don’t get frost bites.” With that, he left it in a corner of the
shed. No one would be here until Monday morning. And besides, even if
anyone did come in, they would have to get through the person on
morning duty to get the key. And that person was Kobayashi. Donning his
cap, Joker left as silently as he came, wheeling the dirty laundry back
to the Laundromat this time round. He pushed the cart into the back
room and took an empty cart. Following that, he headed back for the
hotel, presumably for another round of laundry. But as he got back into
the hotel, he sneaked into the workers’ pantry and hung the borrowed
uniform back on the rack with the rest.

Body transportation, done. That was yet another tick off his list. The
only item left was ‘More sleep’. So like all professional assassins, he
followed his checklist to the very last detail and crept back to room
17.

“This time,” he thought, “I’m sleeping on the bed. The inflatable sleeps on the floor.”

-

By night, Joel Kerner ended his company and visit. He returned
the spare card and left. Yamada Kentarou was watching television in the
dark of his room, savouring the wine he ordered off room service. Joker
re-entered room 17 by the balcony (again) and went unnoticed in dark,
into the cupboard. He needed all the rest he could get before the big
day tomorrow. The battery pack he attached to the movable arm would do
its work till morning, bringing sips of wine to the inflated dummy. He
slept on, filled to the brim with confidence.

-

The next morning, Joker put the dummy to bed and jumped off the
balcony in his uniform. He had his makeup to resemble Kobayashi as much
as possible. The messy, short brown wig was fashioned out of the greasy
black wig he had worn to Sapporo. It was his idea of recycling.
Strapped to the inside of his jacket was the precious god of
destruction. Small in size, but suffer not his wrath. He took to the
roofs and leapt off at a tremendous speed. He arrived at the warehouse
slightly early. Getting to work, he checked in and collected his truck
keys. No one noticed the slight difference. In fact, no one bothered.
He really was a lonely person. It was a literal sense in no one
noticing even if a person was dead. But in his case, it was good.

Then driving a loading cart, he unlocked the storage shed, leaving the
keys there for the next person’s convenience. He loaded Kobayashi’s box
onto the cart, with more empty boxes. The large freezers held the
blocks of ice he needed to send. Retracing the route to the freezer, he
made no mistake and stopped outside. Bringing in three boxes at a time,
he worked quickly. The blocks were about a keyboard in length and
slightly shorter in width and height. Each box held one block. Then, to
account for the three boxes he used for Kobayashi’s body, he reported
the three extra ‘faulty’ boxes as being damaged by roaches. The
clipboard checked out the exact amount of stock and irregularities.
Joker slot it back into the box at the front of the freezer and hopped
back into the cart. It was ready for the truck.

The trucks were all special mini freezers. The boxes were loaded into
the truck that he was supposed to drive later on. While in the privacy
of the back of his truck, he took a pinch of salt from his pocket and
sprinkled it onto a block of ice. He then lit a small candle and held
it to the melting spot in the middle of the block. The hole began to
get bigger and bigger until it was just right for the bomb to fit in
snugly. Joker set it to the maximum countdown of five solid hours. Then
he left it to continue packing the rest of the goods. It froze over
quite quickly, and was hastily repackaged. The extra consignment for
that day was an order for cappuccino and rum ice cream, to the stall at
the HQ. He went off on another round to get that. After making sure
that everything was in order, Joker went about washing the truck’s
exterior. He wasn’t alone on this task. A few others were also doing
the same, to while away the time. Some had already left for further
areas. Joker checked his watch. It was 1030, Monday morning. He hopped
into his truck, handed over his order form at the gates and drove off.

-

He reached the gates of the HQ right on time. Having presented
his pass, he was quickly given access to the back of the canteen, where
he would unload the blocks. Driving in, the lady boss of the stalls was
already there to sign off the goods. He greeted her politely and she
handed him the keys to the same control room he sneaked into the
yesterday. Carrying Kobayashi’s box in first, he placed it right at the
very back, in the most inaccessible corner of the freezer room. Then
the one with the bomb was put on top of it. The rest were randomly
carried in.

Just as he was about to leave, the helper for the ice cream stall came in.

“Kobayashi-san, would you please help me get a box for the ice from
behind, please? The lady bossy mother says to use up last week’s
first.” Without waiting for an answer, he began to shift the boxes
away, heading straight for the stack with the bomb and Kobayashi’s
body.

Shit. This kid was a goner.

Locking the compartment door, Joker dropped his yo-yo into a furious
spin. The spinning blades gave off a soft whirr, which sounded like the
angry hum of killer bees. He let it fly. The steel string went four
times around the boy’s neck. Joker tightened his grip on the string and
gave it a swift jerk. The string went through. The boy didn’t even have
time to scream. He just stood still, breath ceased. Joker took a large
trash bag from the control room outside and carefully tied it around
the base of the neck. Then he tilted the body upside down and he could
feel the head coming off clean from the body, dropping into the trash
bag. The blood started to splurt forcefully for a second, then rapidly
drained out. Propping the body alongside Kobayashi in the box, Joker
was pleased. No mess to clean up. The body was upside down though, to
accommodate both in that tiny space and the boy was small. He replaced
the boxes and made sure nothing was amiss. Then he left with an ice
block box.

-

“Lady boss, the kid has got the runs, needed the toilet. He asked me to pass you this?”
“Thank you, I’m so sorry for the trouble. That naughty boy, skiving
whenever he has the chance. He was still up and running a while ago.
The runs? I’d say he has run off. Not the first time, you know. I can’t
be bothered anymore.”
“It’s the summer holidays after all. Boys will be boys. I was like that once too. My mum was mighty mad."
“He’ll have more than mad when he gets home tonight.”

The banter went on for a while and Joker decided to stay on for a
while. It didn’t matter if he stayed. If anything cropped up, he could
always use the remote to blow it up immediately. All these people would
be dead by today. The stall owners were innocent, so to speak. But
they’d have to go with the Keisatsu. He offered to clean the ice cream
tubs and refill the new ones he brought in from the warehouse. Then he
went back to the truck and purposely let air out of one of the tyres.
He got permission from the police to use their car park to fix the bad
tyre, and he wired the warehouse to report what had happened. They
allowed him to stay out since there were no other urgent deliveries
later that day. Joker went on to feign fixing.

Now, everything was settled. The bomb was in and ticking away.

-

At 1458, the tyre was fixed. Joker asked for the washroom to clean up.
He was directed to one. Then he escaped through the window in the
toilet cubicle, running as fast as he could away from the building,
making sure no one saw him.

-

A huge explosion erupted throughout the entire building. This
caused the whole HQ to be levelled in mere seconds. The next one raged
fiercer than the last, engulfing everything in blazing flames. Not one
was spared. Gas and flammable materials set off a chain reaction in
various parts of the building, causing smaller, but still devastating,
explosions. Even the surrounding twenty-metre radius around the HQ was
no more.

Not one was spared. Not one body was left whole. Not one was left recognisable.

-

Joker went back to the hotel. He put on his disguise, packed and
left. Upon returning the access card, he charged everything under the
company’s employee benefits. Yamada’s employee benefits. The last thing
the workers at the hotel saw was a beer-bellied man sauntering out of
their front doors.

-

On the train back that evening, he picked up a copy of the Daily Shimbun.

The explosion occurred at 3.00 p.m. yesterday. 2 distinct blasts were
heard, and it is confirmed that there may be 2 separate bombs in the
building to have resulted in such an extensive damage. It was most
unfortunate, when all patrols reported back for a mandatory half-day
debriefing at 2.45 p.m. and were killed in the blasts. There are no
survivors. Of the dead, the majority were policemen holding posts and
working there. 10 were indirectly involved. These include 6 canteen
stall owners, 3 janitors and a deliveryman. The deliveryman, as
reported by his company, had already finished his rounds earlier in the
morning but was fixing a punctured tyre when the explosion occurred.

The bodies cannot yet be distinguished, as the consecutive blast has
reduced all of them to smithereens. The same can be said of the
building. Investigations are continuing and the police urge citizens to
stay away from the bombsite as it could be dangerous. The lack of
eyewitnesses this time is also a cause for alarm. The authorities have
only managed to get 4 witnesses who saw the scene soon after it blew.
The reliability of their statements has yet to be justified. *